Give Me Your Lovin'
by TrulyBeTold
Summary: Stahma x Kenya. Music-based one-shot. They both know they shouldn't be together, but how could they possibly stay apart?


There was this particular song, a song discovered from the old world. A band lost in time, a song that was never very popular from a record gone unknown. Alak Tarr introduced it on Raider Radio, an "oldie" as he described it. True, it was a song beyond Alak's and even Kenya's years, but when the melody struck her ears, it was a song she would never forget.

* * *

Stahma grins as Kenya's arms wrap tenderly around her middle, the dark haired human nuzzling her neck. "Don't go," Kenya whispers, "Stay a while longer." Stahma intertwines her fingers with the human's, her smile fading. She turns slowly, taking Kenya's cheek into one hand.

"You know I can't. Datak will be expecting me," she says sadly, a morose gleam in her lavender eyes.

The mentioning of Datak sparks a fire inside Kenya, the same fire that won't be extinguished until he is no longer a burden upon Defiance. "It sickens me how you obey him, Stahma. You're worth more than that-"

Stahma bows her head slightly. "You are the only person to make me feel ashamed for honoring my husband. The Castithan way-"

"Bullshtak! The Castithan way," Kenya groans, turning her back to her lover. She scoffs loudly, "The Castithan way keeps you in a cage. I've been there, Stahma, I get it. And I would never ever allow myself to be in that situation again. And watching you, kneel at his feet with the snap of his fingers? It's... disgusting."

A knot wells in the Casti woman's throat, she glares at Kenya. "Would it be more convenient for you to place me on the shaming rack? Or would you rather continue to berate me in private?" Stahma was used to being spoken to this way, by her husband almost regularly. But, hearing it from Kenya both saddened and angered her in a different way.

A sigh came from the human's mouth, "I don't mean to berate you. I just want more for you. You deserve to be with someone who respects you, who treats you well, values you. Do you understand?"

A small smile formed on Stahma's lips, "And I suppose you would be that...someone?"

"I could be." Kenya responds hesitantly, slightly embarrassed. Stahma was supposed to be another client, another happy customer. Kenya even found it thrilling to be chupping her former customer's wife. It was never supposed to be more than that.

Stahma walks over to Kenya, placing her hands on the brunette's waist and pulls her close, placing small kisses on the human's neck. "While your proposal is tempting, Datak would kills us with his bare hands. A Casti woman stands by her husband, and despite Datak's cruelty, I will love and honor him, Kenya. With the upcoming election, Datak will be requiring my presence more often, and I'm afraid our visits will be limited-"

Kenya back away quickly, "You will because you want to or because you have to? You will always be his slave, Stahma," she says bitterly through her teeth, pulling a silk robe over her shoulders. "I've got other clients to attend to," she glances once more at the Casti woman, ignoring the tears in Stahma's eyes, and says coldly, "This one's on the house," before exiting the room.

* * *

Stahma peers through the window as water trickles down the glass in fine lines, thunder clapping loudly over head. Many are thankful the storm is only water and light, recalling the destruction brought to Defiance by razor rain during the last storm. Stahma remembers that evening of the razor rain all too well. She remembers confessing silly wishes to her husband's prostitute, as the wine flowed through her body. She recalls Kenya leading her upstairs, dancing slowly for her, touching her in places Datak has only ever seen but rarely worshiped. Stahma Tarr discovered first hand what kinds of physical skills Kenya offered, and in those moments, she forgot about Datak, Alak, the storm, everything. Kenya told her to do something for herself, and it made her feel alive.

Lightening poured into the already bright white room, giving it a glow. Stahma cursed her thoughts, the memories of her and Kenya the night of the razor rain playing like an incessant melody. Stahma peered over her shoulder, making sure she was alone before cracking the window open. Immediately, drops of cool rain sprayed her hands, the sensation sending a chill down her spine. Feeling the rain on her hands, she craved for Kenya's touch, to hear her laughter, light as a bell, grace her ears. She knit her brow in frustration, uncertain how a human woman could make her feel so childish. The rain pooled in her palm, the water warming against her skin. The clouds cracked again, and somewhere in the distance lightening seemed to have struck the ground. Stahma closed her fist tightly, the pooled water seeping through her fingers. Quickly and sneakily, Stahma left her home, both reluctantly and inevitably heading for the Need/Want.

She was drenched in rain water, her heightened sense of smell overwhelmed with the earthy scent. The Need/Want was busy as usual, but Stahma was cautious in her arrival, opting to slip in through the back where she would hopefully go further unnoticed. She crept up the stairs to Kenya's private chambers, and listened intently at the door, hoping Kenya wasn't with a client. When she continued to hear only the ruckus of the brothel and the clacking of thunder, she gingerly opened the door. Stahma peeked in, seeing Kenya seated at her window, the human staring out at the storm. She quietly stepped in, but the door closed with an audible thud. "Sorry, but I'm not taking any clients today. Tirra will be happy to... Stahma? What are you doing here?"

Kenya stood, clad in loose linen pants and a dark grey tank top. Stahma was surprised at her appearance. Kenya was always dressed up, in her leather and silk, glittered makeup decorating her lids. But now, now she barely had any make up on and the neutrality of her clothes was very unlike Kenya. "You're soaked, let me get you a towel," Kenya offered, digging through a pile of materials in the corner of her room. Stahma, silent and unsure, slipped her robe off, only a thin linen dress and her beads separating her from nakedness. "Here," the brunette said, wrapping the warm fabric around pale shoulders. "You're freezing cold, what are you doing out in a storm like this?"

For the first time, Stahma realizes she is cold, her lip trembling as she looks down at Kenya's softened features, the human's brow knit with concern. Stahma raises a hand, delicately resting it against Kenya's cheek. "Your skin is very warm," she says, a small smile on her face. Kenya can't help but close her eyes, and nuzzle into the Castithan's cold palm.

"I did not want to spend my evening alone. I find these storms somewhat unsettling." Stahma lied, hoping Kenya would believe her. She could not bear the embarrassment of how she now associated storms with Kenya. "I hope I am not interrupting your evening with my unannounced arrival."

Kenya opened her eyes, a grin forming on her lips. She slipped her hands over Stahma's waist where a beaded belt kept her dress in place. Kenya gently pressed Stahma backwards toward the bed as she undid the beaded knot skillfully. The Casti's dress loosened to her sides, her bare body out for Kenya to see. The human reached out, grazing Stahma's taut stomach with her warm fingers. "I think you need to get warmed up before you catch a cold," she said as she slid the dress away from Stahma's pale body, kissing her neck as she did so.

Stahma pressed against Kenya, the warmth seeping through her thin clothing onto Stahma's cold flesh. Kenya ran her hands over every inch of the Casti woman, placing hot open-mouthed kisses as she went. Kenya smiled before leaning into kiss her lover's lips, but was stopped with a question. "Before we continue, tell me, how does one 'catch' a temperature? Can you humans catch 'a hot' as well?"

A light laugh came from Kenya's throat, "No, no. Catching a cold, it's another phrase for 'getting sick'. It's not serious, maybe a cough or congestion. It happens when you are out in the cold and wet for long periods of time. I imagine Castithans don't catch colds."

"Yes, we are rarely ill," Stahma clarifies thoughtfully, "But, I suppose I should warm up as a precaution."

* * *

"It was unwise for you to come here, Kenya," Stahma warns through the forced Casti smile she always bears. She walks backwards, leading Kenya onto the back balcony of the town hall. "If Datak sees you-"

"If Datak sees me, I came here to be with my sister," Kenya retorted, a challenging smile on her lips. "I knew you would be here while he attends the council meeting," she continues, walking slowly toward the woman, Stahma's back against the balcony's edge. She runs a gentle hand up Stahma's thigh, barely touching her. The Casti woman shudders, her eyes closing at the feeling of the human's hands upon her body once more.

Stahma swallows thickly, "You know I cannot... be with you. He will smell you, just as I can now," she whispers, inhaling Kenya's unique human scent. The scent radiates through her body, and she can't but help herself as she leans into Kenya inhaling deeply, even daring to lick the human's neck for a small taste. She feels the vibrations in Kenya's throat when she lets out a soft chuckle.

"Believe it or not, I knew I couldn't have you. Pleasure wasn't what drove me here."

Stahma glances at her lover, confused. "Then why bother to come?"

A smile spreads across Kenya's cheeks, she leans close to the Casti woman, brushing their cheeks together before inhaling just as Stahma had done to her. "Your Casti perfume is a scent I've learned to enjoy," she plants a small kiss on Stahma's cheek. "I enjoy you, Stahma... all of you."

Still perplexed, Stahma knits her brow in confusion. "So, you followed me here knowing I could not pleasure you because you wanted to... I-I am truly at a loss for words, which rarely occurs."

"Because I just wanted to see you, hear your voice, feel your touch... Even if it was just for a moment," Kenya admitted, a pinkness tinging her cheeks. "I followed you hoping for just a moment."

Still speechless, Stahma stood in silence. She wanted to say so much to the human, but her mouth and voice would not work. Never in all her years had she ever received such a compliment. People never sought her out unless they wanted something, this rule applied from her closest Castithan friends to even her husband and son. "I... still do not know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," Kenya offered, reaching forward once more to place a gentle, but lingering kiss on the Casti's pale cheek. "Goodnight, Stahma." She smiled at the bewildered Castithan woman, turning to leave before a grip on her hand stopped her. Twisting around, she saw an expression on Stahma's face that could only be described as pure affection.

"I would do the same," Stahma declared proudly, kissing Kenya's knuckles. "I would follow you in hopes of having just a moment... Goodnight, my dear Kenya."

* * *

"I don't have to listen to this, I'm not a kid anymore!" Kenya shouts, her blood boiling. It had been a long while since her and her sister had fought, and this was quite the surprise.

"You are going to listen to this! Do you even realize how incredibly stupid it is to be chupping Datak Tarr's wife? And I'm not just saying that because of Datak. You know how dangerous Stahma Tarr is, what that family is capable of!" Amanda Rosewater spat back, engulfed in fear for her beloved baby sister. "How long, Kenya? How long have you been with her?"

Kenya bit her lip nervously, "The first time was... the night of the razor rain-"

"Two months!" Amanda gasped, "Oh, you have a death wish!"

"Spare me the lecture, Madame Mayor," the brunette scoffed. "You... you don't know her like I do-"

"Oh, bullshtak! Kenya, she is dangerous."

"She is not! Not with me. With me... sh-she's different," Kenya admitted, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. "I-I don't know how to explain it, and I never thought it would escalate to this, with Stahma, I never expected to... to..."

"To what? Kenya? To fall for her?" Amanda said, defeated. Kenya only nodded in response, a small tear dripping down her cheek. "Oh, Kenya." She walked to her sister and pulled her close. She kissed her head as Kenya cried into her shoulder. She cradled her sister, "You understand, even if Datak wasn't around, Stahma and you... It wouldn't work. She's not trustworthy. She cares too much about her liro, her appearances, her acquaintances. Please tell me you understand that."

Kenya sighed shakily, her nerves shot. "I... understand. But, I... can't let her go. I would rather have her in secret than not at all."

"You're going to get hurt, maybe even physically, if you continue your affair," Amanda warns, running a soothing hand through Kenya's dark locks. "She will hurt you, and then Datak will kill you both."

"Oh chup Datak! And as far as Stahma goes, she's my concern. And unless you have physical proof that she intends to harm me, I won't hear of it." Kenya pushes herself away from Amanda's grip, tears falling freely.

* * *

Kenya Rosewater watched with a gleam in her eyes as her sister spoke to the Defiance people. As part of Amanda's campaign, she planned to meet with as many Defiance townspeople as she could, securing her vote. Kenya admired her sister's dedication to the town. Defiance had been good to them, and she was glad they both found a way to give back, even if Kenya's gifts were a little unorthodox. Her business was legitimate. In fact, it's where the party was taking place.

Amanda Rosewater had been hesitant at hosting a campaign party at the Need/Want. She wasn't sure if a mayor-to-be should be campaigning at a brothel, but as Kenya said, people felt comfortable there. More comfortable than in some stuffy meeting room inside the town hall. Kenya was pouring some cocktails when Irisa tapped her on the shoulder. "I heard something upstairs. Checked it out. There's someone who wants to see you."

"Who?" Kenya said, her stomach turning. She wasn't expecting anyone, certainly not any customers. "Irisa?"

Irisa grit her teeth, rolling her eyes. "Look, I'm just the messenger. But, take this. Just in case," she stated lowly, discreetly slipping a small knife into the brunette's palm.

Kenya's eyes grew two sizes, fear gripping her. "Irisa, who is it? Should we get Nolan?" She held onto Irisa's jacket, peering upstairs toward her bedroom.

Shrugging her off, Irisa sighed deeply. "No, no. Just... go up there, if anything happens, shout. Stab. We'll be right here," she said, clearly annoyed with her position as messenger and helping herself to one of Kenya's signature cocktails.

The brothel owner groaned, "Not very reassuring, officer," she mocked as she headed for the stairs. Tucking the knife in her waist belt, she climbed the stairs to her room, her anxiety growing with each step. Surely Irisa wouldn't send her to someone if she thought they would fatally attack Kenya... right?

At the door, Kenya took a deep breath and put on a reluctant smile. Opening the door softly, her eyes immediately darted around for her greeter. A small gasp left her lips when she saw a figure dressed in a deep grey cloak. Shutting the door behind her, she kept her hand over the knife. "Party's downstairs, can I interest you in a drink from our bar?"

"A drink sounds lovely, but I don't believe my presence is welcome at this celebration," A calm voice spoke out, turning to reveal pale skin glowing in the dimness. "Hello, Kenya." Frozen, Kenya wasn't sure how to react. So she stood, her eyes fixed on the Casti woman in front of her. The growing silence was beginning to make Stahma uncomfortable, a feeling she was not use to. "Right, well perhaps I shouldn't have come. I'll-"

"Why are you here?" Kenya asked, blocking Stahma's exit. There was great pain in Kenya's heart, but the need to feel, see, and hear Stahma was still greater. "The election's in two days, I'm just surprised Datak let you out of his sight."

The mentioning of her husband's name burned the Castithan. She removed her hood, stepping closer to the small human. "Desperation drives people to do unthinkable acts, including disobeying their husbands." She gently reached for Kenya's hand, intertwining their fingers. She neared, feeling Kenya's breath on her chest as she bent forward to whisper in the brunette's ear, "I needed to see you, my darling Kenya." Stahma kissed her cheek, tracing smaller kisses along Kenya's jawline, almost reaching her mouth before she was pushed away.

"Stop, Stahma. Please, don't. Don't act like you mean those words," Kenya replied bitterly.

Stahma's expression changed from romantic joy to pure confusion. "I do mean them. Kenya, you know I care for you," she began again, trying to pull Kenya closer, but the brunette resisted.

"I'm a prostitute, I know what to say to get someone into bed, too. Stahma, I haven't seen you in days and then the other day at the market you completely ignored me. Datak wasn't even around! This, us, has no future," she gestured between them. "It's time we... I... came to terms with that," Kenya finished, sitting on her bed with a sense of defeat. She hated every word she spoke to her Casti lover, but she had to protect herself.

Stahma stood in front of her, her lip trembling. Her throat was tight and palms moist. She told herself to keep it together, but Kenya Rosewater often melted her insides in a stupid childish way that she loved. "Do you... no longer care for me?"

When Kenya looked up at her, Stahma saw tears in her hazel eyes. "I more than care for you, that's the problem." She wiped at her face quickly, before the tears could fall, her head falling down again. She was ashamed of her feelings, ashamed she had fallen for a customer. But more so felt foolish. How could she have thought Stahma would think of her anything but a prostitute. "I'm just a whore in a brothel, I don't know what I expected from this."

Quietly but boldly, Stahma knelt to the ground. She bowed her head in the traditional, respectful Casti manner. Nervous, she spoke in a sincere tone that she rarely used. "My expectations were also dismal. I've greatly enjoyed our time together, Kenya," she said, resting her hands on Kenya's knees. "You're not just a whore. You've become my friend, my confidante... my lover," her voice cracked as tears fell from Kenya's eyes. "And I never expected to... fall so deeply in love with you," she whispered. Kenya stifled a cry, as Stahma pressed her lips to Kenya's fingers. "Noraka do deta, my dear Kenya."

It was rare for humans to see such a gesture. It was a Casti tradition to proclaim love in this manner, or that's at least what Kristie had once explained to Kenya. The kneeling was a symbol for surrender, a giving in to a most wonderful power. The bow meant respect as it did in most Casti mannerisms. And the kissing of the fingers... "it means that you're pledging your life in their hands, that you're trusting them to care for you, support you... and love you," Kristie said.

Kenya remembered Kristie's words, and her heart beat fast. She was so stunned, she couldn't even speak. Her throat dried as her eyes grew wet. Stahma still held her hands, cradling them as if they were made of fine silk. Slightly trembling and overwhelmed with emotion, Kenya raised her hands to rest on either side of Stahma's pale cheeks, forcing the Casti woman to look at her. Not moving her hands away or disturbing their intense eye contact, Kenya slid from the bed to the ground, her knees hitting the wooden floors with an audible thump. Being smaller, Kenya had to peered up into Stahma's lavender eyes, the rims dampened.

Kenya bowed her head, removing her hands from the porcelain face and grasping at the fingers of the Castithan. She studied them for a moment, admiring their softness and perfections, before kissing them gracefully. When she had kissed every finger at least once, she replaced her hands on Stahma's cheeks, and spoke: "Noraka do deta, Stahma." She placed a light kiss on Stahma's lips before repeating herself, "I love you, too."

* * *

A/N: For anyone who's curious, I was listening to Mazzy Star's song of the same title when I wrote this :) R&amp;R!


End file.
